Reason to Believe
by Scribbles-by-Kate
Summary: 'I'm not the only one with delusions.' Fear struck Rumplestiltskin's heart. 'What do you mean' he ground out. Pan smiled and it was cold and unpleasant. He looked at Rumplestiltskin for a long moment, but then, finally, he said one word: 'Belle.' What would happen if Peter Pan tried to get Rumple to doubt Belle's love for him? RumBelle one shot.


Just a short one shot based on what might happen if Peter Pan tried to make Rumplestiltskin question Belle's love for him. Set after "Lost Girl" so spoilers for that episode.

I don't own _Once Upon a Time_: I'm just having fun in the wonderful world Adam and Eddy have created.

**Reason to Believe**

'Never knew you to be shy, dearie.'

In answer, there came a laugh and a rustle of leaves, and then _he_ appeared: Peter Pan. Rumplestiltskin met the boy's gaze, though he knew that although he might occasionally look like a frightened child, in reality this boy was dangerous.

Pan studied him. 'You've changed, Rumplestiltskin: you _grew up_.' He looked thoroughly disgusted.

'And you _haven't_ changed,' Rumplestiltskin returned coolly: 'still the same petulant, arrogant, selfish little brat you always were.'

Pan glared at him. 'Fine way to talk to an old friend.'

Rumplestiltskin snorted. 'We were _never_ friends, dearie.'

Pan smirked. 'No, I suppose we weren't. You wouldn't join my merry band: we could have had so much fun.'

'Merry? Fun? What's fun about children crying at night because all they want is to go home to their families?' Rumplestiltskin waved a hand in a circle in the air. 'None of this is fun, Pan: it's all just your sick, twisted delusion.'

'Perhaps,' Pan agreed, his voice dangerously pleasant, 'but I'm not the only one with delusions.'

Fear struck Rumplestiltskin's heart and he knew he shouldn't ask, knew it was just Pan's way of playing with him, but he couldn't stop himself.

'What do you mean?' he ground out.

Pan smiled and it was cold and unpleasant. He looked at Rumplestiltskin for a long moment, but then, finally, he said one word: 'Belle.'

Rumplestiltskin moved quickly, grabbing the boy by the throat. 'What did you do to her?' he demanded, eyes wide, his body shaking with fear.

Pan laughed, a cold hissing laugh. 'Oh, it's not what _I_ did to _her_: it's what _she_ did to _you_.'

'What do you mean?' Rumplestiltskin demanded once more.

Pan smirked again: he did that far too much. He nodded his head as much as he was able with Rumplestiltskin's hand around his throat. 'See for yourself,' he invited.

Rumplestiltskin turned quickly, his hand falling from Pan's throat. He was now looking into the small clearing he'd been sitting in. He saw nothing and was about to tell Pan to stop wasting his time when he heard another rustle of leaves and voices.

He watched, a frown etched into his features, as two figures appeared hand-in-hand in the clearing. He recognised them both: the petite, slim form of his True Love and the tall, lank-haired form of the ex-Sheriff of Nottingham. What was happening here?

'You're sure?' Nottingham asked.

Belle laughed. 'What he doesn't know won't hurt him.'

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. 'No.' He winced, then, as the couple before him began to kiss passionately. He closed his eyes. 'This isn't real,' he said, his voice strained.

Pan laughed that hissing laugh again. 'Sure about that?' He began to prowl around the clearing and Rumplestiltskin tried to keep an eye on him, but his gaze was riveted to the couple as they started to undress each other.

'Oh, you thought she'd _wait_ for you, didn't you?' Pan mocked. 'But why would she? Why _should_ she? She's young, she's beautiful: there are other men available to her. Why shouldn't she have them, now that you're out of the way?'

'Because she loves me!' Rumplestiltskin stated, with all the conviction he could muster, which, right now, wasn't a lot, given that the image of Belle and the former sheriff were now clinging to each other, moaning, and…

'This isn't _real_,' he said again, trying to convince himself, but the sense of despair, of…_betrayal_, was growing inside him. What…what was there to believe in if not Belle?

'Oh, it's real enough,' Pan taunted: 'it's there, in the back of your mind, isn't it? You're always asking yourself if she _really_ loves you, if she'll _really_ stay true to you, and deep down, you know the answer is no.'

'That's not true,' Rumplestiltskin returned. He knew that wasn't true: he knew his beloved Belle would never betray him like this, would never betray him _at all_. He _knew_ it.

Pan laughed again. 'It is and you know it.'

The image of Belle cried out in pleasure, then, and the sound made Rumplestiltskin fall to his knees. The thought that another man might have seen her like this, might have coaxed that sound from her, might be bringing her that pleasure right now, at this very moment: it was too much for his battered soul. First Milah, then Cora, now Belle? He'd thought Belle was different, had thought she truly loved him, had thought he could trust her above all others, but perhaps…perhaps he'd been wrong.

_No_.

The voice startled him. It was like a whisper in his ear coming directly from his heart. He wasn't sure if it was his voice or…Belle's: maybe both? What really struck him about that _no_ was the certainty, the conviction behind it.

_You don't believe him_, the voice said now, sure and knowing: _you believe in her_.

'Yes,' he said.

'What's that?' Pan asked, sounding smug, but Rumplestiltskin ignored him.

_It's not real_, the voice told him: _look_.

He did: he looked at the image of 'Belle' and the sheriff and he began to see little things that he knew were off. She had looked and sounded like Belle before, but now the features shifted weirdly between Cora's and Milah's. There was no trace of his Belle about that woman now, and the more he looked at the image, the blurrier it seemed to get.

Pan had stopped prowling now and he was staring in disbelief as the image began to dissolve slowly. Rumplestiltskin knew that his faith and his belief were conquering his fear. Pan could not make him believe in a lie.

Images of his beautiful Belle crowded Rumplestiltskin's mind. Her smiling face and loving gaze filed his mind and heart, and her sweet, musical voice saying his name in tones of love and longing gave him back his strength and his courage. She believed in him: she always had, and he would be wrong to doubt her now on the suggestion of a spiteful, capricious demon.

He closed his eyes to the false vision and let images of the real Belle fill him up. Her name came to his lips in a soft, reverential whisper and suddenly a voice that was more than a whisper gave answer.

'Rumplestiltskin.'

His eyes snapped open and he beheld the form of his Belle as he'd seen her already in Neverland: dressed in her old blue dress and the brown cloak. She looked, as always, beautiful, and he knew she was here to help.

She looked at the false image as it dissolved and then looked at him.

'What was that?'

'An attempt to get me to give in to my fears,' he told her truthfully: he'd striven to be truthful every time she appeared to him here. He wasn't sure if she was a manifestation of his subconscious or some essence of the real Belle, but he did know she meant him no harm and he wouldn't lie to her.

'It didn't work, though, did it?' It sounded like a question, but he heard the confidence behind it: she knew the answer, but he gave it anyway.

'No.' He smiled at her.

She came towards him, smiling and holding out her hands. He realised that he was still kneeling on the ground and he gave her his hands and allowed her to help him stand. She had helped him stand so many times and in so many ways, and he was so very grateful.

They looked at each other for a moment and then he looked over at Pan, who was now scowling and sulking like the petulant child he was at the failure of his deception.

'Your suggestion was strong, dearie,' Rumplestiltskin told him, 'but my belief was stronger. You'll never make me question my belief in Belle.' He looked at the vision of his True Love and smiled. She smiled back and squeezed his hands. Then she watched as he spoke to Pan again.

'You used to be able to make anything happen,' he said: 'what happened?'

Pan refused to answer and wouldn't meet his gaze, but Rumplestiltskin soon found an answer by himself.

'You don't believe, do you?' he asked the boy, staring at him: 'you've lost your belief.'

Pan scowled at him.

Rumplestiltskin almost laughed, but then he frowned instead, something else occurring to him.

'Is that why you took my grandson?' he demanded, his voice coming out like a snarl. Still, the boy wouldn't answer, but Rumplestiltskin didn't need him to. He nodded, almost to himself. 'Henry's belief is stronger than almost everyone else's that I've ever known and you needed him to enable you to play your little games because your belief is wavering.'

He began to walk around the clearing, pondering his theory: the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Henry's heart was full of hope, full of belief, just like Belle's: of course Pan would want to make use of that if his own belief was no longer strong enough to play the games he so enjoyed. Rumplestiltskin knew many things about magic: the most important rule was that it always came with a price, of course, but another very important point was that magic and belief went hand-in-hand. If Peter Pan no longer believed, there must be a shortage of magic, but the reverse would also be true: if there was a shortage of magic, there would also be a limit to belief. Henry was the key to repairing the balance, but there was no way Rumplestiltskin would allow his grandson to be a pawn in Pan's game.

He turned back to the boy and prowled towards him. He grabbed Pan by the front of his shirt.

'You have two options,' he snarled: 'you can let Henry go now or you can keep up your game and deal with me. It's your choice, dearie, but I'd go with option number one if you know what's good for you.'

'This isn't over,' Pan assured him.

He let the boy go, seeing he was going to make him do this the hard way. 'No, it most certainly is not.'

Pan backed away and then turned tail and ran.

Rumplestiltskin looked at Belle. 'I have to go, Belle,' he said softly.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it, smiling. 'I know.' Her other hand reached up to touch his cheek. 'I'm so very proud of you.'

Somehow he knew that this Belle was something more than his subconscious' projection: she was with him in spirit somehow. He marvelled that their love could really be that strong.

'Belle,' he whispered, his own free hand caressing her cheek now: 'sweetheart…'

'I know,' she breathed: 'I know. Go,' she said then: 'go and save your grandson.'

But he hesitated. He couldn't stop looking at her. If this was to be the last time he saw her, he wanted to make it last.

She stared back at him and he knew she knew what he was thinking.

She squeezed his hand. 'Remember what I said: I _will_ see you again.'

Her conviction reinforced his belief and he smiled and nodded. She did the same and he squeezed her hand again; then let go. Turning away from her was painful, but he had to have faith that she was right: they would see each other again.

He was going to save Henry: he was going to do the brave thing.

0

Belle woke with a start, the odd dream she'd had clinging around her still. She'd been in Neverland again, with her Rumple. He'd called her name and she'd appeared. She'd dreamt of being there with him before, but this felt so much more real.

Peter Pan had tried to make him doubt her, tried to make him think she could betray him. She'd sensed his fear and the struggle he'd had with it, but she'd felt his love and his faith in her. He'd understood that she would never, _could_ never, betray him in any way, least of all like _that_, and that knowledge calmed her racing heart now.

She sat up and brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping one arm around them while her other hand played with the edge of the blanket.

This bed was too big for her alone, but sleeping here helped her feel close to him. They'd only shared a bed for a few days, but those few days had been the happiest of her life, and she wanted to remember them now, even though Rumple was far away.

Funny, though: he didn't seem far away this morning. It almost felt like he was in the room with her, and maybe some part of him was.

'I know you'll save Henry, Rumple,' she said aloud, 'and I know you'll come back to me.' There was no answer, but she didn't expect one. 'I miss you so much, but I love seeing you in my dreams, if they _are_ dreams: I'm not sure that's all they are. I hope you can feel me as I can feel you. I think about you every moment.

'Stay safe, my darling,' she whispered: 'I love you.'

Suddenly she felt the ghostly touch of fingertips, Rumple's fingertips – she'd know them anywhere – brushing gently over her cheek. She caught her breath. He might have been sitting beside her on the bed.

Her own hand came up to hover over her cheek and she could almost feel his warm, strong fingers. Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away and looked at the spot where she was sure his spirit was sitting. She could almost see his shape and his smiling face. It made her smile too.

'I love you,' she said softly.

Ghostly fingers caressed her jaw and then she felt herself enveloped by warmth, as if his love was surrounding her. She closed her eyes and savoured the feeling, and then she heard a voice: Rumple's voice. Whether it came on the wind all the way from Neverland or whether it came as a whisper from her own heart, she couldn't say, but it was warm and soft and loving, and it spoke words she'd heard once before:

_Yes, and I love you too_.

**The end**

Thanks so much for reading :)


End file.
